


Rekindled Fire

by Aki (Akiko_Natsuko)



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memories, Nightmares, Reconciliation, Self-Doubt, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Aki
Summary: A single ember is enough to rekindle the fire. Set after the end of the first series, what happens to a clan without it's King?





	1. Chapter 1

_A single ember is enough to rekindle the fire._

   Yata shifted restlessly in his seat in the corner of HOMRA, his gaze flicking from person to person as he contemplated the other members that were currently present. Despite the loss of their King, and the resulting loss of their powers and clan bond that being bound to Mikoto had given them the majority of HOMRA had remained. A few had drifted away to seek a new life in this new crimson-less world, something that he wasn’t sure he would ever forgive them for. It reminded him too much of Fushimi’s betrayal, only this one cut deeper, like rubbing salt in the wound that Mikoto’s death had left behind. However, most had rallied after the initial grief, the group becoming even closer as they sought refuge in the bar and with each other.

    A pang went through him as his thoughts drifted as always towards Mikoto – towards his King, because that bond hadn’t disappeared with his loss, and he scowled as the same gnawing guilt that had plagued him since that night rose once more. He knew that it was ridiculous, that even if he had been there at his King’s side that night, he wouldn’t have been able to make a difference. It had been a battle of Kings, and he was a mere foot-soldier for all his skill and boasting. He knew this, even before Kusanagi had made a point of pulling him aside and telling him the same thing in a too-gentle voice. Yet the guilt still ate at him every day, making him question every action and decision he’d made in that fight and in the days leading up to it – what could he have changed? What more could he have done?

    It was made worse by the fact that wherever he looked there were changes, both subtle and not. in his friends and family, and in the few clashes they’d had with the Blues since that fateful day. Even now an unnatural quiet hung over the bar, the rowdiness that had always filled it just as quenched as their fire. It was wrong in a way that his stomach churning unpleasantly, and there was a stinging sensation in his eyes as he desperately sought some form of destruction, only for his gaze to instinctively seek out Anna. The young strain was sat at the bar playing listlessly with her marbles as she had every day since _he_ died, the smile and understanding she had shown in the wake of Mikoto’s loss nowhere to be seen now. She had adored Mikoto, trusted him and cared for him in a way that none of them had really understood, and in turn, he had been the colour in her world, and the pain of both losses was written across her face.

    Forcing himself to look away before he lost control over the tears that were never far away these days, he found himself watching Kusanagi working silently behind the bar. The former second-in-command seemed as calm and composed as always, but something was lacking about the effort he put into tending his beloved bar these days, and as Yata watched him now, he caught the edge to his voice as he spoke softly to Anna. Mikoto had often doubted it, but HOMRA needed a King…no, they needed Mikoto. For all his sharp edges and reluctance to adopt the responsibilities of a King, he had been the glue that had brought them all together, the pillar that they drew strength from and without him…

    The pressure was building in Yata’s chest. It had been there from the moment he had realised what had happened - a terrifying mixture of grief, guilt and anger although he wasn’t entirely sure who he was angry with. Himself? Mikoto? The Blues? The Silvers? He swallowed hard trying to rein in the wave of emotions that he could feel surging up, realising that he needed to get away before they could break free. He might not have his clan powers anymore, but his temper was explosive enough on his own, and it was the last thing that the other’s needed to be dealing with right now.

    Abruptly he shot to his feet, and Kamamoto who had been sitting closest to him, no doubt still trying to keep an eye on him even though everything had changed, turned to look at him startled by the sudden movement. “Yata-san?” He asked, concerned eyes hidden by his sunglasses as he examined the vanguard quietly, noting the turbulent emotions in Yata’s eyes as they briefly met his.

“I’m going for a skate,” Yata replied sharply, sighing as the other flinched at his tone and softening his expression. He didn’t want to fight, and certainly not with the people who were currently sharing his pain. “I’ll be back a bit later,” he added more quietly, although he knew the words weren’t necessary, after all, where else would he go? HOMRA was his home, the only anchor he had left now in this crimson-less world, and his heart ached more fiercely as he glanced around the bar before scooping up his skateboard and practically fleeing. It was his home, but he needed to get away. Needed to find somewhere where he could breathe, if only for an hour or so, and so he bolted, not noticing Izumo’s concerned expression or the sudden spark of excitement in Anna’s eyes as she straightened staring intently at her marbles.

**

     Yata hadn’t had anything in mind when he’d left, just an overwhelming urge to escape and so he found himself drifting around the city for a while, not even able to lose himself in the sense of freedom that being on his skateboard usually triggered. There was no thrill of knowing he was going into battle, no crimson flames propelling him forward as he launched himself off a ramp, and his thoughts wandered. Unfocused, shifting from topic to topic, but always circling back to the looming spectre of his loss and the guilt that followed in its shadow. The only time he managed to break free, emerging from the strange haze gathering at the edge of his thoughts, was when he’d passed a small group of Scepter 4, feeling a flicker of anger as he spied Fushimi amongst them.

    However, even the temptation to pick a fight or even to just needle Saruhiko was fleeting, immediately swallowed in the haze of his grief and after the slightest hesitation he turned and continued on his way. Not even the mocking smile that appeared as sharp eyes spied him was enough to distract him or pull him away from his darkening thoughts.

   Fushimi hadn’t expected to encounter Misaki, knowing that HOMRA were still licking their wounds and doubting that the vanguard would stray far from them at the moment. However, his eyes had immediately been drawn to the familiar figure, feeling the usual complicated mix of anger, relief and excitement, lips quirking into a smirk, which faded away as Misaki’s expression turned blank, the brief flicker of anger that he’d caught a moment before disappearing. Then without so much as an insult or a second glance, Misaki had turned and skated away, leaving Fushimi to stare after him in confusion, unable to believe that Mikoto’s death had been enough to extinguish the other’s constant need to argue and fight.

    For a moment, he contemplated chasing after the Misaki and forcing him into a confrontation, just to chase that blankness away, but the rest of his group were waiting for him, and Munakata had been on edge since the ‘Incident’, and he wasn’t keen to incur his wrath.

***

    Yata hadn’t had a goal in mind, just needing to get away and he wasn’t sure why but when he eventually allowed himself to drift to a halt it was to find himself in front of the building where everything had begun. The building where Totsuka had died – where the Colourless King had challenged them…where the path to Mikoto’s death had begun. His gaze wandered upwards, a shudder working its way through him as it came to rest on the edge of the roof, at the reminder of what had happened there and what it had led to. _I shouldn’t be here._  He didn’t want to be here, the memories pressing in on him and feeding the guilt churning in the pit of his stomach. However, something made him hesitate before he finally scooped up his skateboard, holding it across himself as a shield as he headed inside and up to the rooftop.

     He hesitated for a good ten minutes inside the access door, not sure if he was ready to take that final step. Eventually, he forced himself forward, stepping out onto the rooftop, his eyes automatically darting to the spot where Totsuka had died in his arms. A lump rising in his throat as the memory replayed in his mind, every second recalled in vivid detail, a shudder going through him as recalled the warm dampness that had soaked his clothes even as Totsuka had grown still and cold in his arms. The sensation of pressure from earlier had returned, and it was rising steadily on his chest, and with shaky steps he moved across to the wall, sinking to the floor, his board clattering to the ground beside him. _It’s all gone._  His gaze turned skywards as it began to rain, his eyes stinging fiercely, but refusing to let the tears fall and he wondered why the sky was able to mourn for his friend’s when his tears refused to fall.

“Mikoto, Totsuka,” he whispered wondering if they were somewhere up there watching what was becoming of their family now they were gone. That thought haunted him, the pressure intensifying, and he remained staring desperately up at the sky, uncaring of the increasingly heavy rain even as it soaked him to the bone.

****

    He was unsure of how long he’d sat there in the rain, trying to escape the pressure and the memories, with little success. When he finally came back to himself, he was startled to discover that the sky had managed to turn inky black while he’d been lost in his thoughts, and blinking he looked around, he realised that the rain had stopped at some point. He began to shiver, as now his attention had been drawn to it, he was beginning to notice the cold that had crept into his body while he had been trapped in his thoughts. Realising that he was going to get sick or lectured if he stayed there much longer and that he was supposed to have been back at the bar hours ago, although whether anyone would have realised that in the current situation? Sighing, his thoughts trying to spiral downwards again, he forced himself to his feet with a muffled groan, staggering for a moment as stiff muscles protested the movement.

    He’d only taken a couple of steps towards the roof access when the pressure reappeared, wrapping itself around him. It was beyond what he’d felt earlier, and he could feel it pressing in around him, gripping, constricting, and he could feel it threatening to smother him as he staggered under the sheer weight of it. A second later it seemed to ease slightly, but before he could feel any relief, a sharp pain shot through his chest tearing a pained cry from his lips. It didn’t stop there, the pain seeming to intensify with each breath, and he gasped, dropping to his knees as his skateboard clattered to the floor falling from suddenly nerveless hands. Forcefully biting back, the urge to whimper he clawed frantically at his chest, vaguely aware of a new burning sensation that was spreading through his body, radiating outwards from the sickening pain spiking through his chest.

     Desperately he tried to reach out through the clan bond for help, the terrifying void at the back of his mind finally causing the tears to fall as the reminder of his loss cut into him. He was alone. The others had no idea what was happening to him, and he had no way of reaching them – no crimson tendril tying him to the only people that would care. The new wave of loss was accompanied by a more forceful spike of pain, and this time he was unable to prevent the whimper that escaped. He could already feel his mind trying to shut down in the face of the pain, overwhelmed as the pressure wound closer and closer, shadows creeping in on the edges of his consciousness and he knew that needed help.

    A faint thought sparked in the back of his mind and biting his lip against the whimpers trying to fight free he fumbled for his pocket. _Get Help. Get Help._ It was becoming a mantra, wavering and broken in the face of the pain, but it was enough to allow to pull out his cell phone with trembling fingers. For the first time, he was glad that Izumo had forced them all to carry them at all times now the bond was gone, even if he had argued against it at the time, seeing it as another reminder of his failures and losses. Now though, it was a godsend, although he was beginning to sway as he stared dazedly at the phone for a second before fumbling at the buttons.

     He’d barely managed to input the first few digits, his mind working sluggishly, when the strongest spasm of pain so far hit him, sending the phone tumbling to the floor as he doubled over with a cry. Gods, it hurt, and there were tears on his cheeks as he struggled to ride out the pain, whimpers escaping freely now, but it was too much, the pain building higher and higher, and after a moment he toppled forward as the last of his strength fled. He could barely focus through the pain and encroaching darkness, but sheer desperation and stubbornness had him reaching out towards the phone. _I need help._ He felt his fingers brush against the phone, but before he could grasp it his mind gave up its battle against the approaching wave of unconsciousness, and as it spiralled down into darkness his body went limp.

***

     Izumo glanced at the clock with a worried frown, before his gaze drifted across to the windows noting just how dark it had become outside. He’d been absorbed in cleaning the bar and trying to cheer Anna up, that he hadn’t realised just how late it had become, or just how long it had been since Yata had slipped out of the bar. He knew that the vanguard needed some space, especially at the moment, not blind to the fact that Yata was trying to take as much blame on himself as possible, although he was still unsure of how to even approach that issue. However, even if he needed to get away, he had been gone a long time…too long, because Yata always seemed to orbit around the bar, no matter how bad things got.

 “Kamamoto did Yata say when he’d be back?” He asked, abandoning his cleaning and heading across to the other man, who glanced at the clock before his own expression deepened into one of concern.

“He just said he’d be back later, and I haven’t heard anything from him,” the other replied anxiously gesturing down at the phone that he’d been playing with, and Kusanagi scowled, fingers tapping against his arm. Yata was old enough to take care of himself, and more than capable of it most of the time, but there was a sense of dread seeping in as he glanced at the clock again.

    No matter how irresponsible Yata could be at times, he would never let them worry about him for no reason. In fact, he had always gone out of his way to make sure that they didn’t, whether because he wanted to impress Mikoto or because he didn’t want his age to be seen as a weakness, and on top of that he had been particularly well behaved since Mikoto…for the last few weeks. It didn’t make sense for that to have changed and remembering the emotions he’d caught playing across Yata’s face earlier, Kusanagi found himself reaching for his own phone. Anxiously tapping his foot, he dialled the vanguard’s number, praying that Yata had actually remembered to keep the damn phone with him this time, fingers tightening around the phone as it began to ring.

****

     Yata stirred slowly, swimming up through a sea of molasses or at least that was what it felt like, a low moan escaping as the pain still riddling his body registered, and he had to fight the instinct to sink back into the oblivion of unconsciousness. He was losing the fight, threatening to sink under again, when a loud noise went off near his ear, the sound making him flinch as his head throbbed at the noise. Blearily he lifted his head, absently noting just how heavy it felt, almost too much for him to lift as he searched for the source of the news. Finally, his gaze fell on his phone which was still lying where it had fallen earlier, _how long ago was that?_ Distracted by that question, it took him longer than it should to realise what the awful noise was, eyes slowly drifting back to his phone. _Oh…_ It took another few seconds for him to process the realisation, and to reach for it, sluggishly pulling it towards himself along the ground.

 Tilting his head, he tried to read the screen, but his vision was too fuzzy, the world alternating between too bright and hazy. The pain was growing again too, his breath catching in his throat as a fresh line of fire spiked across his chest, distracting him, and realising that it didn’t matter who it was as long as he got help he fumbled for the answer button.

“’Lo,” he managed to mumble, rolling over with difficulty and laying his head against the phone as the effort of keeping even a part of himself upright was too much to even contemplate right now.

“YATA?” Izumo’s voice was deafening, and he groaned his head throbbed again, pounding from that single world. An answering spike of pain in his chest sending the rest of his body into a spasm and the groan morphed into a cry. Unintelligible words came from the phone as he fought to regain some control over his body, his thoughts growing increasingly fuzzy. _It hurts. It hurts. It hurt…_ It was too much, and he could feel himself teetering on the edge of passing out again, and with a sense of desperation, he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on the phone.

“Roof…Totsuka-san,” he choked out, not entirely sure that the words had come out clearly enough to be understood but lacking the strength to repeat himself. He could hear more worried words coming from the phone, but they sounded as though they were coming from a great distance, each word blurring into the next until it became a buzz of noise that did nothing but fan the pounding in his head. Pulling back, he slumped further against the ground, the phone clattering to the ground as he finally let himself sink back into the shadows, praying that the others had understood his words and that help was coming.

_I can’t deal with this alone._

**

“Yata?” Kusanagi demanded, tone a little too harsh, but unable to care as he was too relieved that the vanguard had finally answered. However, there was no missing the pain in that whispered greeting and the scowl that had appeared as the phone had rung and rung, darkened, his concern blossoming into full-blown worry as he heard Yata groan. _What the hell is going on?_ His first thought was that Yata had got into a fight – that maybe he had run into Fushimi and allowed his mouth to run away with him, but Fushimi had never hurt him badly enough to make the vanguard sound like that, and his eyes widened with alarm as the groan became a weak cry. “Yata what is it? Where are you? Yata? Yata can you hear me?” He demanded, aware that his voice was getting louder with each question, and that he was drawing attention from the other HOMRA members, many of them looking worried at his loss of composure.

    Normally the thought of anyone seeing him lose control would have bothered him, it was why he had hidden himself away whenever his grief had become too much, but he couldn’t worry about that now. Not when Yata was whimpering, his breath catching and hitching with each one and Kusanagi could hear his phone creaking in protest as his grip tightened. _This is bad._ He knew from experience that Yata could handle more pain than most people gave him credit for, so for it to have reduced him to this state, something had to be grievously wrong and that realisation was like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. They couldn’t afford to lose another member of their family, not so soon after Mikoto…and, this was Yata…their vanguard, their heart.

 “ _Roof…”_ he stilled at the weak whisper, holding up a hand to silence the worried questions that were now to starting to be flung at him, straining to hear as Yata’s voice grew fainter and fainter. “ _Totsuka-san_.” Yata managed to force out, each word sounding as though it cost him dearly and Kusanagi waited, holding his breath and hoping for more, but then there was complete silence on the other end of the phone.

“Yata? Yata?” He called, hoping desperately for an answer of some sort, even if it was just another whimper. Instead, all he heard was a faint thud as though something heavy had fallen against the floor, and his eyes narrowed, the leaden weight growing as he heard the phone clatter against the concrete on the other end. _Yata…_

     Keeping the line open he pulled the phone away from his ear, keeping half his attention on it, scared of missing anything from Yata as he turned to look at Kamamoto who was watching him with anxious eyes.

“We’re going to find Yata,” Kusanagi ordered, even though he knew that nothing would stop the other man from coming with him, and Kamamoto nodded, immediately climbing to his feet. “The rest of you stay here,” he added, turning his attention to the others, injecting a touch of steel into his voice as he caught the protests that were forming. However, his gaze softened as met Anna’s frightened gaze, knowing that she would have detected just how serious the situation was. He forced a reassuring smile onto his face for her sake, and she nodded, although he could see from the all too knowing look in her eyes and knew that she wasn’t fooled for a second. “Let’s go,” he barked, pressing the phone back to his ear and struggling to mask his disappointment at the silence that greeted him as he turned back to Kamamoto before heading for the door, trusting the other man to follow as he frantically resumed trying to get a response from the vanguard.

****

      Yata drifted back into consciousness, this time wondering whether he’d woken in a furnace as an intense heat pressed against him, searing his skin and stealing his breath. The temperature was overwhelming, and he found himself panting as he struggled to breathe under the weight of the oppressive heat, the effort sending fresh spikes of pain through his entire body.

“Yata? Yata?” The tiny voice eventually caught his attention, and he tilted his head as his eyes reluctantly crept open, even that much effort exhausting him. His gaze fell on his phone, and he stared at it for a moment, his mind struggling to connect the dots. He was vaguely aware that he had been on the phone at some point below, remembering how he had struggled to get the words out and not sure if he had succeeded, and with a moan he shifted towards it, pressing his ear against it.

“Kusanagi-san,” he whispered with difficulty, dizziness sweeping through him as he gasped for air, the heat and effort of forcing out those two little words drained what little strength he’d managed to dredge up.

“Yata we’re on our way,” Kusanagi’s response was immediate, relief evident in his voice, but it was the concern and the clear note of reassurance that shook Yata to the core. He hadn’t realised how much he needed that, how much he needed to know that he wasn’t on his own, and to his embarrassment, he felt fresh tears forming in his eyes.

“It hurts,” he whimpered, shifting slightly to curl around the phone and the voice that was offering him comfort, immediately regretting the movement as a fresh wave of pain engulfed his body. If anything, the heat around him seemed to intensify, and his back arched off the ground as the pain grew and grew and the air around him seemed to grow thin, the heat and pressure binding him in place, holding him at their mercy. Unable to hold back anymore he began to sob, muffled moans escaping as the sobs shook his sore body.              

        Faintly he heard Kusanagi reassuring him they would be there in a few minutes, but he couldn’t even find the strength to acknowledge the words, the promise. The sobs fading along with what little had remained of his strength, but now he had begun to shiver, and lines of fiery pain covered his entire body as his body trembled and shook. It was with an overwhelming sense of relief that he admitted defeat, trusting Kusanagi to come for him as he toppled into the shadows, desperate to escape this pain.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

    It had taken Kusanagi and Kamamoto far longer than they’d like to reach the building where not long ago they’d lost a precious part of their family. It felt like a lifetime as they all but sprinted up the stairs, and for the former, it felt like the worst kind of Déjà vu, as he spied the heavy metal door up ahead. _Totsuka. Mikoto. Please, don’t let us lose anyone else._ Neither he nor Kamamoto had said a word since they’d lost contact with Yata, unspoken fear silencing them, fuelled by the continued silence on the other end of the phone that the older man still had pressed to his ear. It didn’t help that the last sound they’d heard from the vanguard had been broken sobs, and agonised cries and moans, especially as they both knew better than most that it took a lot to reduce Yata to such a state because he was terrified of showing any weakness.

    The door was finally within reach, and Kusanagi felt as though he was moving through a dream, or rather a nightmare as he reached for the handle and shoved it open, the vanguard’s name already on his lips.

 “Yata!”

“Yata-san!”

     Their voices trailed off into horrified silence as they burst out onto the rooftop, unable to miss the vanguard who was sprawled out in such a way that it had been clear that he had been trying to leave. _Trying to get help,_ they corrected themselves with a shared glance. Yata was still, giving no sign that he was aware of their arrival, his body lying in a growing pool of water, his hand outstretched with the phone loosely held by limp fingers. Even from where they had halted, they could hear his ragged breathing and see the tremors that were wracking him, and the little bit of his face that was visible from this angle showed that he was in pain even though he was unconscious.

“Yata…” Kusanagi was the first to shake off his shock, the vanguard’s name little more than a whisper, as he hurried towards Yata, expression darkening as he dropped to his knees beside the younger man. _Please, not again…_ It was a prayer, and a mantra in the back of his mind, and paying no heed to the water that was now rapidly soaking into his trousers he reached out with trembling hands, brushing Yata’s shoulder and nearly recoiling at the heat that was coming off the vanguard in waves. Up close, he looked even worse, skin pale, with sweat beading across his face, and when Kusanagi carefully moved him enough to see his face clearly, it was to see that his lips were parted, his breath rattling between them, as though he was struggling to draw in enough oxygen. “Yata? Yata can you hear me?” His voice was rising, fear seeping in despite his efforts to hold it at bay, and he had to fight the urge to hunch protectively over the vanguard as Kamamoto joined them, scolding himself for the action as he glanced up at the other man as he hovered anxiously.

“Is he…?”

“I don’t know.” That was what was scaring him the most, Kusanagi realised as he glanced down at Yata once more. They didn’t know what this was, or where it had come from because the vanguard had been fine earlier – grieving and angry certainly, but there had been no sign of this, and it worried him that it had come on so quickly. _Yata._ With a gentleness that he rarely showed Yata, he eased the vanguard into his lap, trying to protect him just a little from the hard ground and gathering water, his concern growing when even that failed to trigger a reaction. “Yata,” he called again, gently tapping Yata’s face, and hissing under his breath as he realised the abnormal heat he had noted before seemed to be increasing, a fire spreading under Yata’s skin. Knowing enough to recognise that this might be far worse than they’d suspected, he moved his hand lower, taking a deep breath before beginning to rub firmly at the vanguard’s sternum.

    It took longer than he liked, his concern and fear shifting towards terror before he finally garnered a reaction from Yata, and he winced in sympathy as the vanguard whined under his breath, trying to shift away from the painful touch. “That’s it Yata, wake up for us,” he called, voice as soft and soothing as he could make it, unable to forget how the vanguard had sounded the last time they’d heard his voice. Beside him, Kamamoto was murmuring his own encouragements and reassurances, and it was only when they saw the vanguard’s eyes starting to flutter, lashes standing out starkly against his pale features that they fell silent, watching as they crept open painstakingly slowly. It was a visible struggle for him to open them, and then to keep them open for more than a few seconds at a time, and watching as they fluttered again, they realised they were unlikely to get more from him at the moment.

    Still, he was conscious for the time being, although there wasn’t as much comfort to be drawn from that fact as they might like, as his eyes were glazed over, and he seemed incapable of focusing on them, gaze sliding over them. At least until Kusanagi leaned in closer, removing his hand, relieved not to have to cause him more discomfort and trying for an encouraging smile as he tried to capture the vanguard’s attention. “Yata? Are you with us?” It was still slow, but Yata blinked, and his gaze slowly drifted towards him. There was a pause as he managed to focus a little, confusion written across his face as though he was struggling to make sense of the world around him.

“Kusanagi…?” Gods, he sounded young, uncertainty and pain having collapsed the barriers and posturing that he usually tried to hide behind, and he was blinking again, clearly struggling to stay focused. However, the worst was the fresh tears that were beginning to carve new paths through the old, drying tracks, and Kusanagi was entirely sure whether they were from relief or pain. Still, it was clear that he was relieved not to be alone anymore, as there was a desperation in his grip as Yata reached out and wrapped trembling fingers around his wrist, squeezing tightly as though trying to convince himself that this was real.

“It’s me,” he murmured, trying to reassure him. He would have said more, and he wanted to, but it was obvious that the vanguard was already beginning to fade again, and he knew that they needed to make the most of this moment of consciousness and apparent lucidity. “Can you tell me what happened?” Kamamoto was practically vibrating next to him, both needing and wanting to know how this could have happened, and how to fix it, but they had to wait as Yata blinked sluggishly, and they could practically see the cogs turning as he deciphered what was being asked.

 “Not sure,” he mumbled eventually, and his gaze was wandering again, although Kusanagi had a feeling that it wasn’t entirely due to his condition this time, as Yata seemed to be trying to remember what had happened, forehead furrowing. “Pressure… pain, chest and head…hot…so hot,” he finished, trembling, and there was fear in his expression that was painful to see for both, as they knew how much he loved his flames, and it felt wrong to see him fearing any aspect of that even if it was just because of a fever. However, that broken reply was all they were going to get because Yata’s eyes were sliding shut, only this time they didn’t struggle open again, and between the space of one breath and another, his body went limp again.

 “Yata?” Kusanagi called, although he already knew that he wasn’t going to get a response. The silence told him what he’d already known – that Yata was unconscious once more, and that along with the fractured description of what had happened, had his concern skyrocketing again. _Yata, what is going on?_ He rubbed a hand across his face, unsurprised to realise that there was a slight tremble to it, because this was too much, especially after everything else that had happened recently. Still, they couldn’t stay here forever, not least because the rest of the clan would be wondering what was going on, and because there was nothing more, they could do for Yata here. “Let’s get him home,” he said once he trusted his voice to work, glancing up at the anxious Kamamoto who was shifting restlessly from foot to foot, the concern and fear he was feeling mirrored clearly on the burlier man’s face.

    With gentle hands, Kusanagi manoeuvred Yata until he could scoop him up into his arms, rising carefully, and frowning as he registered just how light the vanguard was. It was uncomfortable holding him, the heat hounding Yata seeming to burn through their clothes, but there was no way he was going to release him, instead cradling him close. _Hold on Yata-chan,_ he pleaded as Kamamoto silently began to lead the way back to towards the door, neither of them daring to look back at the spot where Totsuka had fallen, the fear of another loss looming over them.

****

   The volume in the bar had been more muted than usual when they’d entered, but silence had spread rapidly as they took in Kusanagi and Kamamoto’s expressions, and the figure cradled in the former’s arms. It was only in the silence that Kusanagi realised just how full the bar was, much busier than it usually would have been, and he sighed, realising that they had picked up on his earlier concern and waited to check on Yata. However, while it warmed him to see that the loyalty and closeness remained, even in the wake of Mikoto’s death, he felt his grip tighten on Yata, knowing that the vanguard would hate that so many of them were seeing him when he was this vulnerable. Before he could do anything to remedy that though there was movement, the silence broken as Anna darted across to them with a panicked cry.

“Misaki!” There were tears in her eyes, her emotions still close to the surface with everything that had happened, and Kusanagi could see that she was trembling as she reached them, her gaze locked on the unconscious vanguard.

“He’s going to be fine, Anna,” he was quick to reassure her, hoping that his own uncertainty hadn’t bled through into his voice, because if he was honest, he wasn’t sure that it was. The same uneasiness that had driven him to check on Yata in the first place was still growing, even with the vanguard in his arms, and he had got this far by relying on those same instincts to be willing to dismiss them without question now. “We’re going to take him upstairs and get him settled, then we’ll know more,” he added, lifting his voice so that the words would carry across the bar, knowing that they all deserved to hear what was happening. There were several nods of agreement, but the dominant expression was worry even as they parted to allow him and Kamamoto to head for the stairs behind the bar, and Anna was the slowest to move, reluctantly stepping aside, and he could feel her gaze burning into his back even after they’d passed out of sight.

**

    Upstairs Kusanagi made a beeline for one of the spare rooms that he had set up a long time ago after he’d got fed up of HOMRA members crashing on the sofas downstairs or using his bar to patch themselves up after a fight gone awry. At least that was what he told himself, although Mikoto had called him out once, commenting in his slow drawl, that it was nice to know that their clan had a home to come back to when they were in trouble. He’d got a little too drunk that night, but he hadn’t been able to deny his King’s words, and right now as he settled Yata down on the bed, he was glad that he hadn’t.

    Kamamoto closed the door firmly behind them, neither of them trusting the others not to try and sneak up to find out what was going on. The clan had always been close, but since Mikoto’s death that had taken on an increased strength, the unspoken of fear of losing anything else bringing them closer, and as much as Kusanagi wanted to nurture that bond, he also wanted to protect Yata’s privacy, and he nodded approvingly.

“There should be some spare clothes in the wardrobe. They’ll probably be too big, but at least they’ll be dry,” he murmured, already beginning to gently strip Yata out of the sodden clothes that were sticking to his skin like a second skin, unsurprised when the vanguard shifted restlessly, a whine slipping out between ragged breaths. “Easy, Yata-chan,” he soothed, knowing that any touch would probably burn against the overheated skin and resisting the urge to try and comfort him with fingers against his cheek. It was a relief when Kamamoto appeared at his side with dry clothes, the two of them working together to gently ease Yata into them, biting back weak smiles when they realised that he was practically drowned in the material.

      Now that he was in dry clothes, they moved him beneath the covers, ignoring the whimpered protest as they tucked him in, and Kusanagi settled on the edge of the bed as he gathered his thoughts, knowing that they still had a long way to go. “Could you fetch some lukewarm water and a cloth please and ask one of the others to bring up some drinking water in half an hour or so?” He hoped that would give them long enough to get a better handle on the situation. Kamamoto nodded, leaving with a lingering glance at Yata, leaving Kusanagi alone with the unconscious vanguard.

    For a moment he just sat there studying the younger man, before he sighed, shoulders slumping as he reached out to gently brush damp, chestnut hair away from the sweat-drenched forehead. Even without touching Yata’s skin, he could feel the heat radiating from him, and there was a leaden weight in the pit of his stomach. _It’s too soon,_ he thought to himself, refusing to let himself pull away. It was too soon, as neither he nor the rest of HOMRA was in any state to deal with another crisis so soon to the last, even if it was nowhere near the same level. _I hope,_ he thought, watching the ragged rise and fall of the vanguard’s chest, hating that he wasn’t sure just how bad this was. Still, just the fact that it was happening, and to Yata, who was central to their misfit family was bad enough, and not for the first time he wished Mikoto was still there. For all his apparent laziness and stand-off approach, Mikoto had somehow always known what to do when one of their clan needed him, and Kusanagi desperately needed that ability right now.

They all did.

    It was a couple more minutes before Kamamoto returned, startling Kusanagi out of his thoughts as he cursed at the door, trying not to spill the bowl of water that he was balancing in his hand. Leaving it to swing shut behind him, he moved across to set the requested items on the bedside cabinet next to Kusanagi before stepping back to look at the vanguard with a deepening frown. “Do you think that we should call a doctor?” Kusanagi paused at the question, before reaching for the cloth that Kamamoto had brought, dunking it into the water, before carefully wringing it out and lying it across Yata’s forehead as he considered the question. Part of him wanted to agree, knowing that it would be the normal thing to do in this situation, especially with how high the fever seemed to have climbed already. _But…_

“I’m reluctant to,” he replied eventually, biting his lip as he watched Yata shift restlessly on the bed, an uncoordinated hand rising to try and bat at the cloth across his forehead, and it was easier than he liked to reach out and guide it back down. “If only because of how much he hates doctors,” he added, deciding not to mention his own uneasiness at the idea or the worry that if the fever led to delirium that Yata might say things that were better kept within the clan. Besides, it was true enough, and even Kamamoto was nodding in agreement. It had always been a nightmare whenever they had to convince the vanguard that he needed to get proper medical treatment when he was injured worse than they could cope with in the bar. Like the time he had broken his arm in a boarding accident, and it had taken a direct order from Mikoto to get him to go to the hospital. Yata had never really explained why he went to such lengths to avoid medical attention, and truthfully, they’d never pried, something which Kusanagi was regretting right now. “However, if his fever gets much higher, we might not have a choice.” He wasn’t going to risk Yata’s life because of those concerns.

“Okay,” Kamamoto agreed quietly, before tilting his head towards the door. “What should we do about the others? I almost caused a riot just going down to ask for water?” He doubted that it would be long before the more worried or curious members would try and venture upstairs, something he wanted to nip in the bud. Kusanagi paused for a moment, following his line of thought, before turning his gaze back to Yata.

“Tell them that Yata has a bad fever that we’re working on bringing down, and that I will be staying up with him tonight, and that he won’t be ready for visitors until tomorrow at the earliest.” There was a small part of him that knew that wasn’t going to be the case, but he wasn’t about to say that, knowing that they would never be rid of them if he voiced that thought. “If you could try and clear some of them out, that would be helpful, as the last thing we need is them hovering around here all night.” He added, knowing that if he didn’t put his foot down now, that was exactly what they would do, just as he knew that if they really wanted to stay, there was nothing he could do to stop them.

“I’ll do that, although I can’t promise they’ll listen,” Kamamoto muttered. “I’ll get Anna to come home with me…” He hesitated for a moment as he stared at Yata, clearly as reluctant to leave as the others before he shook his head and met Kusanagi’s gaze. “She’ll just fret herself silly if she stays here.” _And so will I,_ Kusanagi heard the unspoken confession, but didn’t comment, just nodding approval at the suggestion, knowing that Anna would never rest if she stayed here. Besides he trusted the blond to keep her safe and distracted, and more than that, he knew Yata would too. “Just let me know if anything happens.” _If he gets worse…_

“I will,” Kusanagi promised, praying that it wouldn’t be necessary, although the uneasy feeling seemed to intensify as Kamamoto slipped out of the room, leaving him alone with the vanguard once more.

****

    It was several hours later that Kusanagi jolted awake as something struck him, and he bolted upright, cursing himself for dozing off even as he immediately turned towards the source of the disturbance. The uneasy feeling roaring to life once more, as his worried gaze fell on Yata, quickly realising what had roused him as he watched the vanguard writhing beneath the covers, his face twisted with pain again.

“Yata?” He called at once, leaning in and reaching out to brush a hand against Yata’s forehead, noting how the hair was plastered to the skin once more, only to snatch it back with wide eyes as he realised just how hot the vanguard had become. Cursing up a storm in his head, he hastily retrieved the cloth that had fallen aside with all the restless movements, dampening it once more, before reapplying it. However, within seconds there was steam visibly coming from the cloth, and when he found the courage to reach out and cautiously lift it up, he discovered that it was completely dry once more, and the uneasiness shifted towards terror.

_What the hell is this?_

     He reached for his phone with trembling hands, realising that this was going far beyond his ability to treat, and praying that the vanguard would forgive him for this once he was feeling better. However, he had just entered the first digit when there was a low moan from the bed, and he dropped the phone, attention riveted on Yata as he realised that his movements had settled a little and that his eyes were moving behind the lids, as though he was struggling to rouse himself.

“Yata? Can you hear me? Open your eyes for me,” he encouraged in the same soft voice he had used on the rooftop, not quite daring to reach out and touch, unable to forget the burn of heat against his hand. Yata clearly heard him though, as his brow furrowed, head lolling towards him. It was still a few minutes later before he was finally rewarded by narrow, slits of brown peering up at him, the confusion in them evident.

“W-Where?” Yata managed to force out, his gaze roving uneasily around the room without any trace of recognition before coming back to focus with slightly on Kusanagi.

“You’re at HOMRA in one of the spare rooms,” Kusanagi replied gently, relieved to see a trace of lucidity in the other’s eyes, although he doubted that it would last much longer than it had on the rooftop, as there was already a haziness to the half-open eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“H-hot,” Yata gasped after a second, beginning to shift restlessly once more, and worry coloured his next words. “Is M-Mikoto angry? It’s only this hot when he’s angry…” His gaze had resumed it’s aimless roving, and Kusanagi’s fear reached a new high as the feverish registered, and there was a dull ache in his chest as he tried to work out the best way to respond. _Oh, Yata….no…_ Yata was unaware of his silent pleading, tossing his head from side to side. “Did I make him angry?” Yata asked, sounding far too young and vulnerable as his eyes slowly settled on Kusanagi once more, the older man swallowing as he saw the deep pain hidden beneath the fevered light in the vanguard’s eyes.

“No,” he murmured once he could get his voice to work, hands trembling as he soaked the cloth once more before wiping it gently across Yata’s face, in the hopes of settling him somewhat, and hopefully pulling him back into the present. However, he couldn’t leave that question unanswered. “Mikoto w…is never mad at you, you know that,” he admonished, voice catching midway. _He’s gone._ It hurt, but he couldn’t say that, not when Yata had paused and was considering his words, and it was true, he thought with pained humour – it had always been left to him to be the disciplinarian in their ragtag family, especially when it came to the vanguard. Mikoto had been hopeless, amused by Yata’s hot temper and actions, and more than once he had gone so far as to say that vanguard was who he would’ve been if he hadn’t become the Red King.

“Really?” Yata asked, and it was painful to hear the hope in his voice as he leant into the cooling touch, his eyes beginning to drift shut again. “Really,” Kusanagi confirmed despite the ache in his heart, and he was rewarded by a small smile as the vanguard drifted off again, settling into a less restless doze, a somewhat peaceful expression settling over his face.

“Yata what is going on in that head of yours?” He asked, knowing that there would be no answer forthcoming even if Yata hadn’t drifted off again, as the vanguard wasn’t one to open up about his feelings. Even when he was loud about his anger and ‘hatred’ of Fushimi, it was hard to tell how he really felt, beyond the odd glimpse here and then, and Kusanagi knew that this new vulnerability would disappear behind a wall of anger and bravado as soon as Yata was on the mend. _I just wish you would talk to us…_

     Sighing, and knowing that was a fruitless wish at the moment, he reached out to cautiously check Yata’s temperature once more, relieved to find that it was a little cooler than before, although still much to warm for his liking. However, after Yata’s fevered words he knew that his earlier, unvoiced fears about Yata talking about HOMRA and HOMRA business were more valid that he’d thought, which meant that they needed to try and deal with this themselves if possible. He just wished that he didn’t feel quite so out of his depth, and his gaze drifted upwards. “Mikoto,” he whispered, wondering if his King and friend was still out there watching over them, hoping that he was, although he feared to think what the other man would make of this situation. “I’m not sure that I’m enough to look after them, to look after him…” He admitted quietly.

      It was a feeling that he’d been experiencing more and more since Mikoto’s death, especially whenever a member had left, although thankfully the exodus had been far smaller than he could ever have hoped. And it was there when Anna cried, knowing that she mourned for more than the loss of Mikoto, but the loss of colour from her world, something he couldn’t give her no matter how much he might want to. Deep down, he knew that even if he could be enough, the clan needed a King. No, it needed Mikoto, and Kusanagi couldn’t give them that.

_Mikoto, how do I take care of them?_


	3. Chapter 3

 

    The sun was just starting to rise, painting paler fingers of blue across the night sky, when across town from HOMRA, Anna jolted awake from a restless sleep. It took her a moment to recognise where she was, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes before she remembered Kamamoto convincing her to come home with him, leaving Kusanagi to take care of Yata. _Misaki,_ something stirred at the back of her mind at the thought of the HOMRA vanguard, the same unsettling awareness that had driven her from sleep. _Something is wrong,_ the knowledge pressed at her and she sat up before glancing across at where she had set her marbles on the bed-side table. They had been all but useless since Mikoto had died, but maybe now, with her family in danger, they would show her something, even if it was just a glimpse.

      However, when she looked at them, they seemed to shimmer for a moment and for half a second, she thought it was just her imagination. But then the shimmer deepened, and she lunged forward to grab them as she realised that there was a spark of crimson in their depths. It was nothing like the deep, vibrant colour she’d had when Mikoto was there, but it was beautiful all the same, a flash of colour against the grey world. As she cradled it closer it seemed to flicker, flaring brighter before subsiding, like the ember in a fire that was trying to come back to life, and her fingers tightened, a hope that she hadn’t felt for weeks bubbling up in her chest. “Please…”

_Let this ember be enough to reignite our fire._

****

    Kusanagi groaned as he coaxed his eyes open, feeling as though he had barely closed them, exhaustion colouring his thoughts as he pushed himself upright in the hard, plastic chair that he had cursed multiple times during the night. Rubbing a hand over his face and shifting from side to side to try and ease the stiffness from his back, he vowed to get rid of it as soon as possible, unwilling to endure this torture again any time soon. He was just starting to feel slightly more awake when a faint noise had him jolting to full awareness, as he remembered why he was here rather than in the comfort of his own bed, and that he wasn’t alone.

_Yata._

His eyes immediately shifted to the vanguard curled up in the middle of the bed, relieved to find that he seemed to be sleeping peacefully for the moment at least. It didn’t stop him from reaching out and brushing his fingers over Yata’s forehead, worried frown easing a little as he found that the fever seemed to have abated, leaving Yata just a little warmer than usual.

   It had been a very long night, the minutes feeling like hours as he’d been unable to do much but sit there and watch over Yata as he fought whatever this was. His temperature had peaked several times, once to the point where Kusanagi had been a breath away from taking him to the hospital even though he knew Yata would have been furious about it. The fever itself had been terrifying, especially during those peaks, but what had been worse was that each spike had been accompanied with desperate, broken pleas for Mikoto or Mikoto’s forgiveness. Hearing the words had been hard enough, but no matter what reassurances he had whispered, Yata had been inconsolable, and the sheer emotion in his emotion as he’d called for their King had almost been enough to bring him to tears.

    That was something they were going to need to talk about once Yata was back on his feet again, but for now, at least the worst seemed to be over, although the vanguard still looked pale and unwell.  Although whether they would be able to make him rest now that the worst was over was another question altogether. Glancing across at the clock on the wall, he was startled to realise that it was already gone eleven. Apparently, he had been more tired than he’d thought when he’d dared to risk a quick doze around five that morning. He shook his head, feeling older than he was at that moment because it hadn’t been that long ago that staying up all night had been a frequent occurrence, and he’d still been raring to go the next morning. Now, he would quite happily go back to sleep, but he knew that the others would be turning up soon, somewhat surprised that they hadn’t already shown up to check on them.

    Then again, they had seen the state that Yata was in the night before, and as impatient as they must be for news, they had probably realised that he would need some extra time this morning. That thought brought a smile to his lips because for all the chaos they caused daily, they could be surprisingly thoughtful at times, especially when it came to worrying about one of their own. Still, he wasn’t about to leave them unsupervised in his bar for too long, and with a grimace he heaved himself up out of the chair, stretching himself and feeling as though his joints had to be creaking.

    He hesitated at the end of the bed for a long minute, waiting for the stiffness to ease, and studying Yata to make sure that he was still resting peacefully. Convinced that he was all right for the time being, Kusanagi made his way to the door. He needed to open up the bar, and rope someone into keeping an eye on it for him – under pain of punishment if they trashed it – although he was hoping that it would just be a case of Yata sleeping off the rest of whatever had triggered this fever.

**

    When he got downstairs, he was startled to find that the bar wasn’t empty like he’d thought, although mercifully it was only Anna and Kamamoto, the latter of whom seemed to be busy readying the bar for the day. Kusanagi opened his mouth, intending to thank him, but was silenced when they both turned to him with worried expressions, their concern deepening when they glanced behind him and saw that he was alone.

“He’s doing better this morning, and he’s still asleep, so I didn’t want to disturb him,” he was quick to reassure them, knowing how hard it must’ve been for both of them to leave the night before. Kamamoto and Yata were inseparable in a completely different way to how Yata and Fushimi had been, giving him hope that it was a bond that would endure, while Anna had always been fond of the vanguard from the moment, he had joined them. His words made the former relax, while Anna sighed with relief, reminding him that they were both still reeling from Mikoto.

 That they were all still reeling from that loss.

     _You had better get well soon Misaki,_ he thought, knowing that none of them was in any state to cope with losing anyone else. It made him more eager than ever to get back to Yata’s side, but before he could voice that thought, Anna had brightened and all but bounded across to him, showing an energy and enthusiasm he hadn’t seen from her since before Tatara’s death. It was a welcome sight, and it stilled his tongue, especially when the moment she reached him, she thrust her hands out towards him, letting her marbles roll across her palms.

“What is it, Anna?” He asked, making no effort to reach for them, knowing just how protective she was of her marbles, although that only fed his curiosity as it was rare for her to even let anyone other than Mikoto get a close look at them.

“Look.” She ordered, pushing them closer, and he was startled to realise that she sounded almost happy, her eyes shimmering as she leaned up, practically shoving them into his face. Deciding that it was best to humour her and wanting to know what had her in this mood, he bent down and examined the marbles, searching for whatever had brought about this welcome change in her behaviour. It took him a couple of minutes, and he had just been about to pull away and ask her to explain when he couldn’t see what had made her so excited when he finally spotted it. It was barely visible, and hard to make out under the lights in the bar, but there in the depths of the glass was a faint spark of crimson. A light that he hadn’t seen since Mikoto, although it was so faint that he couldn’t help but wonder if it was just their wishful thinking putting it there.

“What is that?” He asked.

“A new King is being born,” Anna whispered, as though saying it too loudly would stop it from happening, but she couldn’t contain her excitement, nearly bouncing on the tips of her toes as she smiled up at him. For his part, Kusanagi was frozen in place, unable to do anything but gape at her, not sure how he was supposed to feel about this revelation. It was also far too soon, both for their emotions which were still shredded over Mikoto’s loss and from what little he knew about the Kings and the process of ascension. It was also too much right now, especially with what was happening with Yata and part of him wanted to turn away and pretend that he hadn’t heard her and that he hadn’t seen the spark of crimson. However, Anna was watching him, and Kamamoto was quiet, no doubt waiting for his reaction, reminding him that he had to be the mature one in this situation, and he took a deep breath.

“Do you know who it is?”

     Anna’s expression crumbled a little at the question, and he wasn’t sure whether it was because of the question or his lack of enthusiasm. Relieved when she shook her head, hands clenching around the marbles as she brought them up to rest against her chest.

“Whoever it is, isn’t ready to be King yet,” she replied, a complex mix of sorrow and impatience colouring her voice, reassuring him it was the question rather than his reaction, and he nodded. He knew that she could only see so much in the marbles, and considering her powers had been hit or miss as she dealt with her grief, he supposed he should be grateful she had seen this much. He was also relieved to know that they were going to have a little time at least before they would have to confront the reality of having a new King, and all the choices that would entail. Just of the thought of it felt wrong to the former second-in-command, even though he knew that what HOMRA really needed was a King to guide them forwards. He just couldn’t imagine anyone other than Mikoto in that role, even if their former King had spent most of his time telling them that he wasn’t cut out to be a King.

“Let me know when or if you learn anything else,” he murmured, knowing that it was an unnecessary request and having a feeling that she wouldn’t be taking her eyes of the marbles for the near future, watching as she carefully slipped them back into her pocket before he moved across to help Kamamoto finish setting up the bar.

     Still, he was unnerved by the news, and as he started unpacking the glasses, he found his thoughts spiralling between the idea that they could have a new King soon and his concern for the vanguard sleeping upstairs. And how Yata would react to the news when he heard it, remembering the quiet, pleas for Mikoto to forgive him. _Mikoto, how much more can we endure without you?_

_How much more can I endure?_

****

    It felt like he was clawing his way up from a great depth, exhaustion clinging to him, or maybe that was the covers that were tightly around him as he stirred. Unable to hold back a low moan as he tried to push them away, his body protesting as the movement aggravated the deep aches that seemed to radiate through every inch of his body. It felt like he had been pummelled, and for a moment he wondered if he’d run into Fushimi again, but that didn’t feel right, and as he cautiously stretched out again, only to immediately regret it he froze. Remembering the horrific pain from the last time he’d been awake, and suddenly clawing his way out of the depths didn’t feel like such a good idea because he didn’t want to go back to that pain. However, it was too late, consciousness holding onto him now and as he cautiously opened his eyes, he was relieved to realise that while he was in pain, it didn’t hold a candle to what he’d been in before.

     Taking a deep breath, he blinked, realising that the last thing he remembered was being outside. He certainly wasn’t outside now, and he stared at the ceiling for a long moment, his mind slow to connect the dots. He certainly wasn’t in his own room, and eventually, as he blinked again, he recognised the spare room at HOMRA. He’d been in this room more than a few times before, generally when he’d gotten himself beaten up beyond the usual cuts and bruises that came from fighting in the frontline and Kusanagi had refused to let him go home without patching him up. He was guessing that was why he was here now because while he hadn’t been beaten up, it felt as though he had taken a pounding as even the simple act of breathing seemed to be enough to make his entire body throb.

    He lay there for a few minutes, hoping that the aches would gradually fade away, but while it settled into a background hum, it didn’t disappear completely and eventually he had to move. He took it slow, carefully pushing himself up with a trembling arm, finding himself having to clutch at his chest as a twinge, similar to the ones he’d felt what he guessed had to be the night before although not as painful. _What the hell is going on?_ He didn’t understand where this had come from, or what was causing it. Mercifully the overwhelming heat from the night before seemed to have disappeared, at least for the time being, but he still felt…off. It was a strange feeling, as though he was somewhat disconnected from his own body, although it didn’t seem to be enough to protect him from the twinge of pain that wracked him as he took a slightly deeper breath.

“Yata?” The quiet voice made him jolt, and he had to bite back a hiss of pain as his body protested the movement, especially as he turned abruptly towards the door. He didn’t like being caught off guard, and it was another sign that things weren’t right as normally he would have heard the movement, especially when he realised that it was Kamamoto stood peering in through the doorway. The other man was looking at him as though he might break at any moment, and as much as he wanted to bristle under the look, he couldn’t bring himself to do it, instead forcing a smile that even he knew was too weak to be called a smile.

“Hey.”

     Kamamoto seemed to brighten at his reply, stepping into the room. He had foregone his usual sunglasses, meaning that Yata couldn’t miss the concern in the eyes that were examining him closely, narrowing slightly as he couldn’t quite suppress a wince as he leant back into the pillows. Part of him was irritated by the examination. He hated being coddled at the best of times, let alone with the feeling of failure that had haunted him since Mikoto had died, but he bit his tongue, unable to forget how desperate he’d been for someone to be there when he had fallen ill on the rooftop. He couldn’t pick and choose when they cared about him, especially not when he had clearly worried them.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” Yata replied, deciding that there was no point in denying it when he winced again as he looked up at the other man who had halted at the end of his bed. “But better.” He wasn’t going to mention the odd feeling of disconnection, knowing that it would just make them worry about him even more than they already had or were. Kamamoto didn’t look wholly convinced by his reply, but thankfully he didn’t push the issue. “What happened?” Yata asked, deciding to head off any more questions. Besides, while he could vaguely remember seeing his friend and Kusanagi on the rooftop, he couldn’t remember anything beyond that point, and he realised that the haziness in his memory was bothering him more than anything else right now.

“You passed out again after we’d found you, and we bought you back here,” Kamamoto replied, tilting his head to indicate the room they were in. “You were ill all night with a high fever. Kusanagi-san said that it only cleared up a few hours ago and that there were a couple of points where he thought you might need to go to the hospital.”

“Did he stay up with me all night?” Yata asked with a frown, losing what little colour he’d managed to regain as Kamamoto nodded. It was bad enough that he’d caused as much trouble as he had by collapsing on the rooftop, the thought that he’d made the older man spend the entire night by his side was a bit too much. An embarrassed flush tinging his cheeks as he glanced down, praying desperately that he hadn’t said anything too ridiculous during the fever, as he knew from experience that he had a tendency to talk aloud and reveal everything when he was feverish.

“He checked on you a while ago and said you seemed to be over the worst of it, but that you should just rest for today,” Kamamoto continued, seemingly oblivious to Yata’s worried thoughts and the vanguard scowled. If he was honest, he still didn’t feel well, and he honestly wasn’t sure that he could do much anyway, but he was reluctant to just languish in bed, especially after knowing that he had likely kept Kusanagi awake all night. “You were very ill last night Yata, so please just listen to us for today. Okay?” Kamamoto had seen his expression darken, knowing the tell-tale signs of Yata’s stubbornness rearing its ugly head, leaning forward as he tried to convey the worry the vanguard’s unexpected illness had caused.

    Most of the clan had trickled into the bar earlier than usual looking for news about their vanguard, and they had been unusually quiet even before Kusanagi had told them that Yata needed to rest for today. The few members that hadn’t been present the night before had been filled in on what happened, while those that had been present had talked in low voices about just how disconcerting it was to see the hot-headed Crow laid low, especially after everything else that had happened.

    For his part, Yata couldn’t miss the concern in Kamamoto’s voice, and he glanced down, knowing that he couldn’t do anything else to increase that concern. Especially after glimpsing the familiar grief that had been haunting them all, and with a sigh, he nodded. “I’ll rest.” It was almost worth it for the relieved smile it earned him.

“I’ll let Kusanagi know that you’re awake, and get you something to eat,” Kamamoto had come alive, sounding and looking more like his usual self now that Yata had agreed to stay put, and the vanguard managed to force a real smile this time as the other man all but bounced out of the room.

**

    As soon as the door closed behind Kamamoto, leaving him alone once more, Yata let the smile fall as he sighed. He wanted to curse himself for falling ill at this time, even if he knew that it hadn’t been his choice, hating the fact that he had caused the others so much worry.

    He also hated how tempting it was to actually listen to their request and roll over and fall asleep again, if only in the hopes that he would feel better when he woke up. However, before he could give in to the temptation, he needed the bathroom, and there was no way he was asking for help like that, even if he wasn’t too sure about his ability to get there. Pushing the covers away was an exercise in pain, and it left him dizzy and cursing when he was finally free, but he gritted his teeth as he slid out of the bed and on to shaky legs. He winced as he straightened, his body upping its protest at the movement, before glancing down and scowling as he realised, they’d changed his clothes at some point, and that what he was wearing was far too big for him. And he grabbed fistfuls of material as he moved, not wanting to trip over the excess length, almost wincing just at the thought of how much that would hurt at the moment.

    Somehow, he made it out of the room and into the hallway, tiptoeing as he did so, not wanting to be caught out of bed just after he’d promised to stay put, even though he was sure the others wouldn’t blame him for needing the bathroom. He could hear the murmur of voices from the har, and a proper smile tugged at his lips as he listened for a minute, the sound of home and family helping to settle him more than anything else could. However, his need for the bathroom was pressing, and he had to move, nearly stumbling as he slipped into the bathroom.

    He took care of his business as quickly as possible, determined to make it back into bed before anyone caught him wandering about, refusing to make them worry about him even more, especially as he staggered again. Finished, he stepped across to the basin and washed his hands, before glancing up at the mirror, and pausing as he caught sight of his reflection.

    There was no way to miss the fact that he was ill. He was paler than usual, and there were dark shadows under his eyes, leaving him looking as though he had been punched. He looked awful, hair plastered against his forehead from the fever, and he couldn’t really blame Kamamoto for looking so worried, wrinkling his nose as he studied himself in concern. Which became a grimace as he poked at the bags under his eyes, knowing that they came from more than the last night, as he hadn’t slept right since Mikoto’s death, and he was looking away, unsettled as always by thoughts of his King when a sudden flash of crimson made him freeze. It felt like a lifetime since he had seen red, and with his breath catching in his chest, he lifted his gaze back to his reflection, only to stiffen as he realised that it hadn’t been a spark or a flicker of flame like he’d thought, but rather it was his eyes that were flashing with crimson fire.

“W-what is this?” He asked, unable to look away as his normal hazel was lost to crimson, torn between terror and an all-consuming longing at the sight of the familiar colour that had come to mean so much to him. _What the hell is happening?_ His hands were trembling as he reached up, half expecting to find fire or blood beneath his searching fingertips, but there was nothing there. And yet the mirror clearly showed that his eyes were now the deep crimson of Mikoto’s fire, and a sob rose in the back of his throat, as his knees shook before giving way beneath him.

_Mikoto, what is this…?_

 


End file.
